Making Contact
by sapphire-child
Summary: Right before the Freighter receives Jack’s distress call, Miles accidentally makes contact with a man who is drowning.


**Title:** Making Contact  
**Characters:** Miles, Charlotte, Charlie  
**Original Post Date:** 20/02/2008  
**Spoilers:** up to 4x03  
**Summary:** Right before the Freighter receives Jack's distress call, Miles accidentally makes contact with a man who is drowning.  
**Disclaimer:** I've only kidnapped these characters and situations etc. momentarily and will give them back in due course.  
**Author's Note:** written for lostfichallenge #66: new characters

* * *

Miles was sick of living on a boat.

He was sick of the smell of the ocean, he was sick of having to live all cooped up and eating crappy food and feeling obligated to make small talk with all the other idiots he was stuck with while they waited around for something to happen. Occasionally when he got bored enough he would actually seek out company from his fellow team members – but it was a rarity. He just wasn't used to being a part of a team. The fact that he hadn't really gelled with anybody didn't much help his cause either.

Naomi was an elitist – she never spent much time with the rest of the team. Miles had come to blows with her on more than one occasion, most notably when he had been eyeing her up in the galley one day and she had threatened to break all of his fingers.

Charlotte on the other hand was annoyingly cheerful , full of youthful enthusiasm. She was always going on and on (and on and on) about all the digs she'd been on and all the famous people that she'd met during her travels and what book she was reading (and basically anything else that she could think of for that matter).

Daniel was different again. He was so awkward that it was almost impossible to enjoy a conversation with him – and when you did manage to get him going he always ended up babbling on about his physics stuff, a subject which Miles had loathed since High School. Frank was alright but he spent a lot of time playing around with the helicopters on board or going on about Oceanic Flight 815 and how he thought that the plane that had been found off Bali was a hoax. When he got going on his conspiracy theories nobody could shut him up.

And so Miles had taken to hiding out in his cabin as much as he possibly could, poring over books or staring into space. Usually this led to impromptu naps that he was more often than not woken from by Charlotte because she was bored and wanted someone to talk to.

Today however, things were good. The others were all in the galley, deep in discussion about where Naomi might have gotten to (she'd been gone for several days now) and Miles had been able to slip back to his cabin straight after breakfast, hoping for some undisturbed time to himself.

After thumbing through the meagre collection of books he had brought along with him and finding nothing to his liking, he decided instead to just take a nap. Toeing his boots off, he crawled on top of the covers and stretched languidly before linking his hands behind his head.

The sound of the ocean outside was surprisingly soothing for once instead of irritating. Miles let himself drift off into an easy doze and to his intense surprise he almost immediately began to hear a voice calling out to him.

"Can't…can't…water…"

Whoever it was they were a fair distance from him – their voice was far too faint for them to be close. But it began to strengthen slowly as he listened carefully, trying to stay relaxed so that he could figure out who the hell this was and why they were connecting with him like this.

"Penny…" the voice said, much stronger now. For a moment Miles thought of Charlotte – the accent was so similar. But then he realised that the pitch was far too low for her and she certainly wasn't dead. This was definitely a man speaking to him. "Not Penny's…boat…Claire…"

Miles listened intently waiting to see if he would say anything else.

"Aaron…I love…"

There was a soft sigh, like someone letting out a final breath of air and then a final, whispered sentence.

"No air – I can't-can't breathe…"

And then a strange chill washed down the entire length of his body, like somebody had painted him with a coating of ice. Miles shivered but the voice was already...

"Wake up sleepy head!"

Miles opened his eyes blearily to see Charlotte peering down at him.

"What do you want?" he snapped, irritated that she had interrupted him.

"You need to get up," Charlotte told him, poking him gently in the ribs. Miles grumbled and drew away from her. "We've just made contact."

"Contact with _who_?" Miles snarled, rubbing at his eyes vigorously.

"The people on the island," Charlotte said and then added significantly. "They say that they're the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815."

"That's impossible!" Miles protested immediately, sitting up abruptly. Charlotte looked rather smug at his reaction. "They're all dead – they found the plane!"

Charlotte shrugged but her eyes were glowing with apparent relish. "Well apparently they got the wrong plane."

"Impossible," Miles shook his head.

"Well we'll see," Charlotte paused and then frowned at him. "Are you alright Miles? You look a bit pale."

"What do you mean?" Miles pushed himself to his feet and regarded himself in the small mirror on the wall. His reflection stared back at him quizzically. Charlotte was right – he was pale. A moment later her reflection joined his, looking quietly puzzled.

"You're not getting seasick are you?" she mused.

Miles pursed his lips into a sarcastic smile and Charlotte decided to give it another try.

"Either that or you've just seen a ghost," she joked.

Miles turned to glare at her.

"That's not funny Charlotte."

Charlotte's lips twitched with the want to smile but she somehow managed to contain herself enough to make her way to the door.

"Get your stuff together," she told him from the doorway. "We'll be leaving as soon as they get a fix on the location."

"Yeah yeah," Miles muttered. "I hear you."

When Charlotte had left he pulled out a notebook and a pen and sat down on his bed. His hand shook slightly as he wrote down the key points of the message he had received. Something about water and air, Penny, boat, Claire, Aaron, love, no air – can't breathe…

Laying his pen down and glancing back over his notes, Miles grimaced. It sounded like a classic drowning case. He'd worked with them before. They were usually nice and calm as they went – although why this guy had connected so strongly with him he didn't know. Usually he had to try to make contact with a ghost.

Usually they had to be completely dead for him to make contact.

If Charlotte was right and they really had found survivors from Oceanic 815 then maybe this guy was one of them? Although why he was thinking about _boats_ (of all things) as he drowned Miles didn't know.

He slammed the notebook shut and pulled his boots back on again, yanking the laces tight, just the way he liked them.

If they really were going to be getting off this stupid goddamn boat then he wanted to be the first one on the helicopter.


End file.
